Poems. I wrote some poems. I call this little collection "Forth and Back"

One Actor
Indefatigable spirits flag not
In the face of
Obstacle, stale air,
Or achievement,
But nourish caring hearts
Through handcuffed and assassination-rife times.
Racism has many costumes
But only one actor,
The infant, fearful soul.
Peace, she whispers,
And lets go her soul.
Takes forever leave of it.
And it
From her.
At some urgent last moment
I will know that it is.
If I do not manage a smile
You must remember that
Was my most intended intention.

You say to stop
Right where I am.
How could I stop
Where I’m not?
Ease along now
Even as you will
Yourself to stay put.
Just how many
Realities can we be?
Perhaps Pi.

Open any door and stand
In what you have made,
An opening framed by…what?
Watch what the door kept hidden,
What it kept from you,
What kept being
Without you.
Beyond this portal
Are more portals
And within each,
More portals,
And with each,
More what.
Open any door.
Find joy or hatred within.
Smile upon discovery.
Break down.
Find myself?
How does that
Which is I
Perceive that
Which it is?
I would more
Likely find
That sad I
Seeking I.


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